


3 Piece Suit, 2 Sigh Night

by Batwynn



Series: Sterek Tumblr fics [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Prom, Talking, happens, sterek, super fluff, they needed to chat about this stuff sooner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batwynn/pseuds/Batwynn
Summary: Stiles and Derek's twist on prom night, and a little conversation they probably should have had a while ago.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (This is a dancing fic for spider999now and their adorable art. Sorry it’s a little more talky and angsty than I originally meant. XD )

“We’re over-dressed.”

Stiles scoffed, looking around at the crowd other teenagers milling about, while absolutely not understanding what his boyfriend was even—"Okay, yeah. Yeah, we are. A little.“

Derek let out one of those long, withering sighs the he often shared with the Sheriff over a beer on the back porch, the kind that made something sad and panicky well up in Stiles’ chest whenever he heard it. Because he _knew_ how much work he was, he knew he was hard to handle, hard to deal with, hard to love—just difficult. That was what he was, difficult. And any one of Derek’s sighs could be the last one, the finale sigh where the guy finally just gave up and washed his hands of everything Stiles.

It took him a minute to realize Derek was glaring at him, hand proffered in front of him like a real gentleman. “Come on already.”

Yep, the illusion was broken.

“Come on what?” Stiles asked, twisting the edge of his sleeves between his fingers. Post-sigh panic was always a struggle, but Stiles had gotten good at hiding it years before Derek joined his dad in the game.

“Don’t you want to dance?” Derek replied, wiggling his fingers at him. “We got all dressed up, we might as well show these punks how it’s done.”

Stiles chortled, “‘These punks?’ Oh my god, you’ve been around my dad too much. I thought I’d have to wait at least another twenty years before you started sitting on the porch with a shot gun, yelling at those _young whipper-snappers_ on the the front lawn.”

Stiles waved a dramatic fist at Derek, doing what he felt was a spot on impression of their future. It didn’t last long, though, because Derek had no imagination and grabbed his fist so he could tug Stiles out onto the dance floor. He only stumbled once, thank you, and Derek’s super nice arms saved him before he _really_ embarrassed himself.

“We don’t have to dance, you know,” Stiles reminded him, even as he slid his fingers between Derek’s own, and leaned into his space.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the entire point of going to your Prom, Stiles,” Derek smirked, and started to sway them slowly around the dance floor. They got a few looks, some distasteful, while others really dragged up and down Derek’s body like the creepy creepers that they were. By the time the first slow dance was done, Stiles was feeling anxious, irritated, and crowded.

“I take it back, I don’t want to go to the Prom,” he muttered as some of the dancers moved of the floor, opening up a space around them. “We should go home, order pizza, and watch Finding Nemo.”

Derek was silent for a long, awkward moment of standing in the dance floor with no music, before letting out another sigh.

  
Soo, tonight was a Two-Sigh night. Stiles kind of wanted to shrivel up into nothing now, cool. Great. Wonderful. Fantastic.

“Are you embarrassed by me?”

Derek’s quiet words shook Stiles out of his Depression Spiral of Death. What did his beautiful werewolf just say?

“Are you—you’re not serious, are you?” He asked, mouth dropping open in horror as Derek’s expression grew even flatter. “Oh my god, you _are_?!”

Derek started to pull away, grunting, “Forget I asked. Forget I even—”

“No!” Stiles yelped, yanking Derek firmly against him and gripping his hands hard. “No, shut up. I mean, please be quiet and—you know what I mean, I don’t have time to be polite.” Derek’s eyebrows rose. “ _Shut up_! You’re wrong, you’re really wrong right now. I’m totally not embarrassed by you—I mean, you’re probably dying of embarrassment from being seen with me on a regular day, but then I had to go and get the fancy suits with the vest things and that dude over there is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and I totally fucked this all up from the start but people—other people made it worse! With the staring and the eyeing you like a meat-pole they want to climb and—”

Derek kissed him.

Well, sort of kissed him. More like shoved his mouth over Stiles’ so he’d stop talking for a minute. When they broke apart, Stiles let out a shuddering sigh, and plopped his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Is it my turn?” Derek asked, bumping him with his hip to get him to start swaying to the next song.

“Yep… Go ahead. Sorry about the meat-pole thing, I don’t know what that… Was.”

“Just you being you,” Derek huffed, earning himself a good bite on the neck. “Ow– cut that out. Alright, look… I don’t think you’ve noticed this, but you’re getting some appreciative looks, too.” Stiles scoffed again. “Shush, just because you’re too busy glaring at the people looking at me, doesn’t mean there aren’t any looking at you. More importantly, I think… I think i’m doing something that upsets you, and you won’t tell me what it is. You haven’t told me for a while now, and it needs to stop.”

Stiles grumbled into his shoulder, “How’d you know?”

“Werewolf, remember?”

“Nah, I forgot in the last two minutes.”

Derek reached down and smacked his butt like they weren’t in a crowded room of people, causing him to squeal appropriately and try to hide his face even further into Derek’s shoulder. From somewhere nearby, Stiles thought he heard Scott whine about inappropriate dancing. Like he was one to talk.  
  
“Stiles… I don’t _want_ to do things that upset you. I thought… I was pretty sure you were happy when we put on the suits, and you smelled happy in the limo. I don’t know what I did, but—”

“You sighed,” Stiles blurted out.

“I—what?”

Stiles leaned back enough to look Derek full in the face, and just stared for a minute. His boyfriend looked a tiny bit confused, a lot concerned, and a little sweaty.

“You do know there are better places than the Prom to air our dirty laundry, right?” He asked. “I mean, we’re toeing the line for Prom night cliche.”

“Would you just _tell me_?”

“Okay! Alright… Okay.” Stiles tucked himself back against Derek’s chest, and placed his chin on the man’s shoulder. If he was going to do this, it was going to be quiet. “You do this thing—the same thing my dad does sometimes when it’s been a long day and i’m just the last thing he needs right now, you know? Like, you guys have had enough Stiles, and anymore is going to be an overdose, call an ambulance, it’s over.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Shut up, i’m explaining it,” Stiles grumped. “So, alright, you know when Scott gets kind of long winded about saving the world and adopting every puppy, or whatever?” Derek nodded. “And you just kind of want to shove a sock in his mouth and escape? Yeah—well I know i’m like that too. I mean, I’m worse, way worse. I go on unstoppable tangents about irrelevant stuff, I twitch my legs and tap my fingers a lot, I blurt things out that totally should not be blurted sometimes but it just happens and… And I move around, and I sometimes forget to do things like take my meds or eat because i’m hyper-focused on something else, and I elbowed you in the face last night in my sleep, and people usually have to tell me to stop a few times before I even realize it, and I get stupid panic attacks that ruin our nights out or fuck up an already serious situation because who needs stupid panicking Stiles on top of a rabid werewolf attack? No one, that’s who. No one needs my messed-up-ness on top of their own shit, Derek. And so, you sigh.”

Derek had gone still somewhere in the middle of his rant, making them a target of a few glares from the other dancers on the floor. But that didn’t matter, they didn’t matter. Only Derek’s broken expression mattered.

“Oh shit—” Stiles whined, patting at Derek’s chest like he could just… Just put whatever he broke back together there. “I’m sorry, what was it? What part? I take it back, ignore me. Oh my god— _why haven’t you learned to ignore me yet?_ ”

Derek cleared his throat, and slowly closed his hands around Stiles’ wrists. “I don’t want to ignore you. I want you to tell me these things.”

“Not if you’re going to look like that!” Stiles babbled.

“Stiles, i’m upset that I hurt you. That I made you think that all those things about you irritate or, I don’t know, exhaust me.” Shaking his head, Derek once again intertwined their fingers. His expression had softened, a little, but he still looked sad. “Sometimes I sigh because I really don’t know what to say, like that time you started talking about fish-mating cycles during our sushi date. It’s kind of hard to enjoy anything with fish eggs when you’re talking about fertilizing them.”

“Oh… Um, sorry?” Stiles offered nervously.

“Just… Yeah, I had no idea what to say about fish sperm. But, other times i’m just trying to get my balance. I have to catch up a little, get my thoughts together before I speak and stuff.”

“But—but I elbowed you in the face.”

“And I kicked you off the bed last week.”

“Dude, that was a nightmare, you’re allowed.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, and slowly pulled Stiles closer. Stiles sulked the entire way, because, yes, okay, he’s a hypocrite. Whatever.

“I think you miss the fondness in your dad’s sighs, and, um, mine” Derek pointed out, once they started swaying again. “We like it when you’re you. Anytime you’re not, we get worried and we don’t know what to do to fix whatever’s bugging you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “I’m always me,” and twisted enough to get Derek to dip him. It gave him a good view of people’s dresses, and a few more glares. God, other high schoolers really sucked sometimes. He felt like the old man with the shot gun, now.

“Sometimes you try not to be you,” Derek said after he yanked him back up into his arms. “Anyway, I’ll try to sigh less, because i’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Stiles laughed—probably way too loudly but whatever, people can suck it—and went back to swaying around the dance floor with his boyfriend. It was nice, now that the air was clear between them. Kind of sweet, like all those moments Scott was always talking about having back in freshmen year when dating was the most exciting prospect of their lives.

“So, is this the part where I stay quiet so it gets all romantic?”

“No, don’t be unrealistic.”

“Excuse you?!”

Derek just cracked one of his rare smiles, and leaned in to kiss him.

A real kiss, this time, not just to shut him up. A few of them, actually.

  
They fell into an easy silence between kisses, just the two of them, sharing the same space, swaying to cheesy slow music in their over-priced vests. It was a little bit perfect, if you ignored the dude wearing the 70’s suit and making saxophone noises whenever he saw them. Whatever, kids these days.

They definitely were going to show these punks how to do it.


End file.
